


Start Again

by lawofavgs



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8501113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawofavgs/pseuds/lawofavgs
Summary: Mike knows that he needs to fix things with Ginny. He didn't expect it to work out this well.





	

He almost implodes their friendship/battery mate bond with his stupidity early on. Who would have thought it would be a committed companion rather than a long line of floozies that would cause the most damage?

In the end, Mike’s lucky it doesn’t destroy them. It takes weeks of cold shoulders and ignored calls. Days of pain seeing Ginny with Duarte, like he’s been replaced without a thought. Nights of imagining conversations and perfect words to say to win her back, platonically of course.

He sees the pain his betrayal has caused and, for a brief moment, almost thinks about waiving his no movement clause. Let Oscar put him on waivers to be picked up by another team that will take him far away from San Diego and give them both some peace.

In the end, he stays. Refuses to waive, sees the relief in Oscar’s eyes (clearly not his idea). Him and his $16 million a year salary will stay and he’s going to fix his relationship with his rookie.

Step one is breaking it off with Amelia. A warm bed and some good sex isn’t worth losing Baker in his life. For her part, Amelia almost seems relieved. She sees the issues as well, prioritizes Ginny above all else. They part on good enough terms, like the mature adults they’ve claimed to be this whole time.

Step two is giving Baker her space once he tells her that his door is always open, and he’ll be there whenever she’s ready. He wants to press the matter but he knows, knows that would just cause her to retreat further. He can wait. He’s not going anywhere.

In the end, she does find him, even though she’s not looking.

It’s late and he’s hunched over the arm of the treadmill, keeping his weight off his right leg. He’s been trying so hard to get his body to cooperate lately, to hold on to the one thing left in his life even as he sees it slipping through his fingers. If he can just get in better shape, do better, be better, he can keep his job as starting catcher. He can stay 60.5 feet in front of Ginny Baker. He can make her see that he’s sorry and that they can put this whole thing behind them. So he pushes himself, like he would if she were on the treadmill next to him. He runs and runs and his body revolts, knee buckling under him. With just enough sway to grab the arms of the treadmill before taking an embarrassing fall, he stops the machine. Teeth gritted against the pain, pulling in as much oxygen through his nose as he can, he hangs onto the metallic support. Suddenly, it feels like he’s lost it all. His position, his career, his life, the one person who can cut through the deafening silence. Damn it, he’s 36 fucking years old, he shouldn’t be here, in a gym at 9 p.m., body broken and eyes watery.

He hears her gasp, louder than his own ragged breath, and snaps his head up. If he had any dignity left, he would fake a smile, crack a joke (“Thank God you’re here, I forgot my life alert in my locker, this could have been disastrous”). But he doesn’t, he can’t. All he can do is even out his breathing while he rubs at the weak spot on his body. He hates how his body has betrayed him and he hates how he betrayed Ginny and if maybe this is some karmic justice being slapped down on him, he deserves it.

Before he can say a word, she’s at his side and helping lower him to the ground. He tries to hide the wince of pain, but at this point, what’s the use? He’s already embarrassed himself in front of her, no sense trying to play up the macho card.

“Do you need me to call anyone? I think – I think the training staff’s all gone home for the night, but I can call one of them?”

Her eyes are wide and damn near pleading, like she’s scared for him, and that hurts almost as much as his knee. After everything that’s happened, she shouldn’t have to add the worry of his aging body to her list of concerns. He feels his Asshole Tally rise another notch.

“It’s okay Baker, really, it’s fine. I just need a minute,” he tries to assure her, his hand rubbing hard at his brace-encased knee.

They sit there in silence for a long time. He wants to apologize and set things right, but he knows that’s playing dirty. She’s here helping him, and to take advantage of her kindness but pushing her into a conversation she doesn’t want to have is a level of selfishness he refuses to sink to.

Finally, she looks up from his knee, mouth kept in a hard line but eyes sparkling, like she’s holding back a laugh. He groans, rolling his shoulders out in mock-preparation.

“All right rookie, hit me. Whaddya got? Just know if it’s an ‘I’ve fallen and I can’t get up’ joke, that’s too easy and, frankly, way beneath you.”

She hides a laugh behind the back of her hand. “At least you didn’t break your hip?”

He lets out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head in disappointment. “Broken hip jokes? That’s it? That’s the best you’ve got? Nothing about needing calcium in my old age or switching to water aerobics? Tell you what, Baker. Pull out your phone, google some new material, then get back to me.”

He’s got her laughing now, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, looking like the same rookie he teased about having his poster on her wall.

“In all seriousness, I’m pretty sure laughing at the elderly, especially when they’re injured, is in very poor taste,” he informs her, tutting and shaking his head, which earns him even more giggles.

“Think you can stand, Father Time?” she asks even as she gets to her feet, holding out her hands to him to give him a boost.

“Father Time?! Ok, damn it, that’s a good one. Don’t strain your back there, rookie. There’s only room for one injury-riddled player in this gym and I’ve called dibs.”

Her warm hands wrapped around his, she hauls him to his feet, moving his arm around her shoulders so she can help him to the weight bench. “Don’t worry old man, it’s amazing what a body under the age of 75 is capable of.”

He scoffs, internally trying to stamp down the unwelcome thoughts of just what her body is capable of. He doesn’t need to go down that path and she deserves so much better than that. For christ’s sake, he’s been lucky enough to get this much time with her, that flicker of hope for a reconciliation more than his sorry ass deserves.

She disappears for a moment, only to come back with an ice pack in her hand. Tossing it to him, she leans against the leg press and crosses her arms.

“I’m losing it, Gin,” he starts, all trace of humor gone. “All of it. Duarte’s going to get the starting position, and if I’m lucky enough to have one more season left in me, I may not even get re-signed here, even at first base. And I’m the idiot who announced on live television that I wasn’t losing my job, so there goes my shot at broadcasting. I just keep screwing things up.”

Her eyes soften and he waves his hand quickly. “This isn’t a pity party, I just…I’m tired, Gin.”

“That is what usually happens at you age,” she replies softly, lips quirking up in a small smile. It pulls a laugh out of him, even with him on the verge of a breakdown.

“I’m so sorry, Baker.”

“I know.”

The silence that stretches out isn’t uncomfortable, and he lets the chill from the ice pack seep into his aching knee joint.

“I’m sorry for how I acted, too,” her reply cuts through the room and Mike’s head snaps up. His forehead furrows in confusion, trying to figure out what she’s talking about.

“Baker, you had every right to react the way you did. You didn’t do anything wrong here. This was all on me. Don’t ever apologize for how you feel,” he tells her sternly. That seems to stun her a little bit, like she’s gotten so used to hiding her emotions, the idea of putting them on display is shocking. He realizes, like a punch to the gut, that she’s probably been forced to keep a straight face and smile through her pain and anger. As a woman playing with men, she’s probably been accused of being hormonal or emotional at any display of negative feelings.

Meanwhile, he’s seen grown ass men take baseball bats to Gatorade coolers after striking out, but they just get commended for their heart.

With a sigh, Mike manages to push himself to his feet to test out his bum knee. Sore, but he can walk on it with only a slight hitch. Ginny’s in front of him, ready to assist in case his body gives out on him again.

“I meant what I said, Ginny. I’m sorry, and I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. Even if it means enduring 100 different ‘Old Man Lawson’ jokes a day,” he adds with a wink, shuffling a bit to stretch out his leg. She rolls her eyes at him with a smile on her face and it’s the best damn thing he’s ever seen.

“Come on gramps, let’s get you some supper. We’ve missed the early bird special but I’m sure they’ll make an exception for the captain of the San Diego Padres.”

~*~

Mike knows he has an uphill battle trying to retain his position as starting catcher, if he’s going to get his body to cooperate for another year or two. But damn, these things feel like a cakewalk now that he’s got his rookie back in his corner. She pushes him just hard enough in the gym without letting him overdo it. She points out in a subtle manner that her ERA and WHIP are lower when Lawson catches for her (Sonny’s, too) and suddenly he’s starting back behind home plate where he belongs more often than not.

She picks up when he calls her and she calls him and it’s more than he ever could have asked for.

With the deadline acquisitions and the perseverance over the final 2 months of the season, the Padres do manage to shock the world by securing a wild card spot. Sonny Evers pitches a near flawless game and helps lead the team to a 4-1 win over the Giants. They know they’re in tough against a Cubs team ready to change history after an enormously successful regular season. The Padres manage to push them to a fifth and deciding game in Chicago (including Ginny’s win at Petco, giving her the honor of being the first female pitcher to get a win in the MLB post-season) before falling in the bottom of the 9th. It’s heartbreaking, but Mike refuses to let the team lose sight of all they had done this year. From a sub .500 team to the playoffs and giving the best team in the National League a run for their money in a game that could have gone either way.

He dreads the off-season a little bit, expecting Baker to head home to North Carolina and re-connect with her family. She had mentioned it during their late-night calls, discussing her mom and the affair she’s not supposed to know about. She brings up her brother and missing his constant presence in her life. Of course she’ll head home for a break before spring training starts.

So when there’s a knock on his door a few days after the Padres’ season comes to an end and she’s standing there with beer, he’s a little stunned.

“Close your mouth and let me in, Lawson, the game starts in 5 minutes.”

A little stunned, he follows her directions, grabbing a beer as she moves past him.

“Shocked you’re not in Tarboro yet,” he comments offhandedly before taking a pull from the bottle in his hand. He watches her drop onto his couch, grabbing the remote and making herself at home (shoes off, stocking feet propped on his glass coffee table).

“Evelyn is going to help me look for something a little more permanent than the Omni for next season. Just have to wait ‘til she gets back from the Sanders family vacation.”

Mike snorts, dropping down heavily beside her and tapping her thigh with the bottom of his bottle. “You do realize she’s going to convince you to buy some insanely large house that’s 10 times bigger than you need just because she likes it, right?”

With a snicker behind her bottle, she shoots him a look and replies, “Why do you think I’m bringing Blip along with me? He balances out her crazy spending impulses.”

Mike’s not one to watch the playoffs if the Padres aren’t in it anymore. Petty, sure, but he’ll never get used to the bitter taste in his mouth watching fellow players celebrate their success while he’s stuck on his couch like a slob. This, though, with Baker beside him on the couch and a cold beer in his hand, he can live with this.

Seeing the Dodgers still in it though, that stings a bit.

He feels better after a couple of beers, watching the Cubs steamroll LA while Ginny is pressed against his side, laughing for the fourth time over that stupid Cats with Hats commercial.

“Every time!” he exclaims while she catches her breath, wiping tears from her eyes.

“It’s funny! They’re wearing tiny little hats!” She starts laughing all over again, and he’d put that damn commercial on repeat if it meant hearing that sound over and over.

He makes the mistake of looking down at her, sitting far too close for comfort, and it’s the most clichéd fucking rom-com bullshit ever when he feels the breath knocked out of his chest. His mind screams at him to head for higher ground, hold onto some semblance of self-preservation for both of their sakes.

“Gin,” he whispers, so soft, a warning.

He can’t do this. He can’t risk her career or their friendship because he’s a pathetic, horny man who can’t keep his hands to himself.

He can’t do this.

But she does.

She tips her chin up, placing her lips over his tentatively as her hand rests softly on his cheek. He needs to pull away.

As soon as she tilts her head a bit to deepen the kiss, all fucking bets are off.

He’s got his hands buried in her hair, curls twisted around his fingers. He’s torn between pulling her onto his lap or laying her out underneath him or putting a stop to this all together like a responsible captain should do when he’s got his rookie’s lips pressed against his.

It should surprise him that she takes the lead, easing herself down onto the couch and pulling him down on top of her, bracketing his hips with her thighs (god bless the deepness of his couch, allowing him ample space without the fear of toppling them both to the ground). He’s embarrassingly hard already, groaning when Ginny tilts her hips up slightly to ground against him. He’s gonna come in his sweats like a teenager and then he’s going to have to sign with an east coast team or a European team just to escape the humiliation.

But fuck, how much can he be blamed when he’s got Ginny Baker underneath him, moaning against his lips, feeling like heaven?

His hands are under her t-shirt, dragging along her soft skin and touching the bottom of her bra. Damn it, he wants to tear her clothes off and worship every inch of her body before starting again. But he can’t, he needs to make sure she’s with him. He can’t have her regret him in the morning. He survived losing Rachel, but he doesn’t think he’d survive Ginny walking away.

He pulls back enough to catch her gaze. She’s breathless and heavy-lidded and he could live 100 years and still wouldn’t see a sight as beautiful.

Jesus, she’s made him a sap.

“Gin, is this what you want?”

Her eyes drop to his lips and she nods, almost distracted.

“You have to say it, baby. I need to hear you say that you want this,” he pleads, almost desperate for her answer. He feels her puff out a breath as she rolls her eyes. Running a hand over his cheek, she deliberately looks him in the eyes.

“I, Ginny Baker, do solemnly swear, that I want to fuck Mike Lawson’s brains out,” she bites out with a smirk, eyes dropping back down to his mouth. He has to ignore the warmth at her quasi-vow, but he can’t push down the thrill at hearing those vaguely dirty words come out of her mouth.

He doesn’t respond, just drops his lips to hers in a quick kiss, teasing her tongue with his own before sliding over her jaw and down her neck. He alternates between licks, kisses, sucks, and soft bites, listening for every cue that she gives him. Before he can continue his meticulous path, she pushes him back just enough to remove her shirt, yanking on his until he gets the message and pulls it over his head. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. Her orange bra contrasts perfectly against her skin and his mouth goes dry. God, he wants to do so much. He wants to turn off their phones and take his time and once he’s done, he wants to start back at the beginning. He wants to keep her in his bed until they’re both boneless and breathless.

Damn it, bed, right. The couch might be deep but he needs more room to maneuver and he needs to see her spread out on his sheets.

Grabbing her hand, he pulls her off the couch and tugs her up the stairs to his room, stopping every couple of steps to steal her breath with a kiss. By the time they get to the top step, she wraps one long, powerful leg around his waist and he thinks he’s going to die.

He moves her back to his bed with a distinct lack of patience, giving her a light shove and going for her jeans before she’s even done bouncing on the mattress. He can hear her laughing at his enthusiasm but he can’t find it in him to care. This is real and happening and he has no problem admitting that he wants this more than he wants his next breath.

Crawling over her on the bed, he helps guide her closer to the headboard and suddenly he’s got ample room to get acquainted with her body. He reaches under her and flicks her bra open with one hand, earning him a sharp laugh and a muttered, “Of course.”

He’s more than prepared to show her every impressive skill he’s perfected over the years. Starting with giving attention to the perfect tits sitting pretty right under his mouth.

With his hand circling and teasing her left breast, he gets to work running his mouth and tongue and teeth over the right. He alternates speed and pressure, humming sensations into her skin. It doesn’t take long before she’s shoving at his shoulders, lifting her hips in a silent plea.

Christ, this woman is going to be the death of him and he really can’t think of a better way to go. Her demands are almost bordering on blatant and it makes his dick throb.

“I wanna hear you ask, Gin. Tell me what you want me to do. Come on, baby, tell me,” he goads darkly, letting his mouth run across her firm stomach, sucking marks into her skin. Again, he feels her hips rock up.

“Fuck Mike, I-“ she stops, bucking up, seeking friction from whatever body part of his is closest to her center. He’s so fucking turned on by how turned on she is and he’s going to lose his mind.

“You what, baby? Talk to me. I’ll do what you tell me to.”

“Damn it Mike, go down on me, please, I need…I need….”

He shushes her then, hearing the desperation in her voice. He’ll come back to that later, make her tell him what she needs from him. For now, he needs to taste her. Rolling her panties down her thighs, he’s almost floored by how wet she is. Taking a breath, he wills himself to go slow, to not just dive in and over-stimulate her. He runs his tongue over her, getting her taste on his tongue before rolling the muscle over her clit. The noise she makes is half-yell, half-moan, and he knows she’s going to be loud. Fuck, he wants to make her yell his name. When her thighs raise up on either side of his face, he forces them back down, meeting her gaze over the smooth expanse of her stomach. Her pupils are blown wide open, body receptive to everything he does.

His tongue dances over her clit, tapping an erratic beat lightly before giving it a slow suck. All it takes is one, then two fingers inside her, crooked and running over the spot that has her shouting his name with her fingers gripping his sheets and his wrist.

He starts again, fully intent on taking her apart once more when he feels her hand in his hair, yanking to get his attention.

He tries to ignore it until her husky voice breaks through the fog. “Jesus Mike, get up here, please, I need you inside me, now, please. I want you to fuck me.”

His mind stalls, sputters, melts into jelly while his cock pulses in a threat to spill all over his stupidly expensive sheets. Next time, he promises himself. Next time he’ll spend an obscene amount of time between her legs. Pulling himself level with her, he blindly grabs at his bedside table for a condom. He can hear her breathless laughter and this moment is perfect. He thinks he breaks a world record time when he shoves his sweats and boxers down his legs.

Ripping the condom package open and rolling the latex over himself, Mike takes a deep breath before lining himself up and sliding home.

Fucking home.

He goes slow, letting her adjust to the intrusion, but she’s so fucking wet and she’s making unbelievable noises. By the time he bottoms out, she’s already lifting her hips, encouraging his thrusts.

“Fuck, Ginny, baby, I wanna feel you come so bad,” he huffs, thrusts already becoming erratic. She’s gasping over and over, digging her fingertips in his shoulders as she lifts her leg higher up Mike’s waist. He’s going to lose it soon. Dropping a hand between them, he rubs his finger in circles over her clit, timing it with her thrusts and staring down at her with rapt attention.

“Mike, shit, I’m close, I’m gonna-“ she breaks off with a moan, working to lift her hips even higher. With the extra space, he grabs her ass (that goddamn perfect, pear-shaped ass that started all of this), squeezing and clapping a hand against her hot flesh. She gasps, head kicking back. With a dark smirk, he repeats the action.

“I want it, Gin. I want you to come for me. God, you’re going to give it to me, yeah? Come on baby.”

It only takes a couple more thrusts before she’s coming undone in his arms, yelling his name, voice hoarse. He follows behind half a minute later, spilling into the condom with a groan smothered in her neck.

He wants to pull out of her and start all over again, but one look at her and he can see that she’s spent. With a warm smile, he eases out of her, tying the condom off and tossing it into the garbage beside the bed. He pulls her into his arms, kisses her sweat-slicked forehead and burying his nose in her hair.

“Wow. I can’t believe you came over to seduce me. Well, I mean, I can. Just look at me. Told you I’m irresistible to women,” he sighs, like his looks are just a huge burden. He yelps when Ginny digs her fingers into his side.

“Shut up, Old Man. You’re going to need your rest for round two.”

Yeah, he’s never going to leave this bed.


End file.
